Page 7 of Electric Touch

She won fair and square. I’d made an elementary error, and she capitalized, but I’m not mad about it. She runs to tell her mom about her win, and I spot Apollo. He is leaning against a tree eating an ice cream cone, women all around him swoon.

My best friend is six four, with a shaved head and muscles for days. He has tattoos painted over his entire body. Plus, he is handsome as hell. He might not look it, but Apollo owns and runs a very sophisticated and sought-after tech company. When he wants to, he looks like a professional business owner.

Today he’s dressed in shorts and a Wu-Tang Clan t-shirt with retro Adidas sneakers and no socks. His grandmother, Yaya Effy, doesn’t like for anyone to put on airs and graces when they visit. Once a month, we drive to Brooklyn, to the assisted living center where she lives. I’d been astonished the first time we visited, the place is like a five-star hotel. I can’t imagine how much it cost but Yaya Effy is ninety, living alone isn’t possible anymore. She’d been saving for her entire life because she’s never wanted to be a burden on Apollo.

Effy is as spritely and feisty as the day I met her. I’d only known life on a quiet Greek island when we first got to New York. Apollo is a year younger than me. My mama and his grandmother encouraged our friendship. I suspected Effy hoped something more would come of it, but we were too close to let those kinds of feelings get in the way.

We kissed when I was fourteen and he was thirteen. We only did it to say we’d kissed someone, and practice on each other, but it was weird. We decided not to do it again. In high school, Sasha told me to use Apollo to break me in, her words. With all due respect to my male best friend, the idea grossed me out, and he gave his virginity to an older girl before Sasha even suggested it. It took me a good three years to follow in his footsteps. I was an early bloomer hormone wise. I was on the verge of graduating high school before I cashed in my V card.

“I saw that,” Apollo falls into step with me after we wave goodbye to Violeta and her mom. “Did you let her win?”

“No,” I tell him, sweeping my hair into a loose bun on top of my head. My neck is sweating, even though I’m wearing an airy, strapless sun dress. The heat is unbearable right now. “I messed up, and she took her chance.”

He eyes me, but eventually nods. I rarely lie, and when I do, he can tell. He pulls me into him, wrapping an arm around my neck.

“Any more thoughts on the tattoo?” he asks.

“You’re obsessed.”

“It’s art. I love art. You know I’ll design something for you.”

“Really?” I ask as we head to where Apollo parked his sleek metallic grey Model Three Tesla. “Not sure I trust you.”

“How dare you,” he puts a hand on his chest, his expression so offended, I laugh. “I’ll have you know I’ve been working on some designs. I just wasn’t sure when to show you.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.”

We reach the car and he holds the door for me before getting in the driver’s side. Apollo isn’t flashy with his money, he has a modest apartment but isn’t materialistic. The one thing he splashed out on is his car. Even though he uses the subway a lot, he loves to drive this car and the journey to Effy’s place is the perfect opportunity.

Apollo hasn’t had an easy life, both his parents died before he was out of diapers. His Yaya raised him alone. We’d lived next door for a few years before Mama and Hank got married. It was a long way away from Apollo and Effy, Hank had a place on the Upper East Side. We had become such close friends, we hung out as much as we could. Seeing how much I missed him, Hank got Apollo a scholarship through his contacts at my high school, so we could stay together.

When Ariella, my little sister, came along, he took her under his wing of protection too.

I shut out thoughts I don’t want to encroach on our afternoon with Effy. Apollo sets the air con to a level guaranteed to turn me into an icicle. He passes me his phone and tells me to open the ‘tattoo’ folder in his gallery. The images he has designed, though beautiful, are big. I glance over at him.

“You can scale them down, or take some elements out so they’re not as big. Plus, there are plenty of discrete places you can put it.”

I smile and try to take the options on board as I go through the designs. Apollo designed a lot of his own ink. The drawings are beautiful, roses and lilies, butterflies and an odd little snake thrown in. They aren’t calling to me. Then I come to a beautiful mockingbird, its wings are spread, so it looks as if it is about to fly away. The stem of a long tulip is in its beak, the red flower is the only colour in the image. The detail in the feathers and the petals is so intricate, it almost takes my breath away. I don’t need to look at anything else.

“Don’t cry, you big girl,” Apollo nudges me.

“I’m not crying,” I say, wiping my eyes.

He chuckles. “You like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“When can I book you in?”

“Let’s not be too hasty.”

“Tia!” he shakes his head. “Open the list,” he waits while I pull it up on my phone. “There are some difficult things on here, life class, back flips. Falling in love. The tattoo is basic.”

“Expensive too.”

“Relax, I got you covered.”

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